


It's A Pirate's Life For Me

by neverlandlumos



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pirate AU, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverlandlumos/pseuds/neverlandlumos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rich kids never made good pirates, or so Graham believes. Richard decides to prove him wrong. On Hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's A Pirate's Life For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gameofthorins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameofthorins/gifts).



> neverlandlost.tumblr.com

It was his father who taught him how to steal.

It's easy enough really, especially because Graham was nothing more than a lad when he learned the best way to pickpocket people. His father taught him which type of man had money by recognising their fancy clothes and dress shoes, men with women or courtesans bathed in wealth.

He can't remember correctly, he was around the age of ten when he first successfully stole a man's wallet, though a fluke now he realises, the man disastrously drunk, spouting horrid sexual filth across the room at the youngest women.

Nevertheless, the skill came in handy when his family reached their poorest, forced to live on the streets. His father would not allow his wife to become soiled by the hands of common strangers, forcing Graham to fight, and fight like an animal in the means to protect her. His mother was a frail, simpering thing, and though he adored her, she wailed and cried endlessly.

He doesn't blame her, not now, anyway.

Graham met his best friend James in a compulsory school orphanage, by order of the town's newest mayor. No children were allowed to play endlessly on the streets, and he knew, children who grew up in such utter crap, reached adulthood much worse. 

School's great, school's fine. School is also full of idiots, mouthy little fuckwits who think their opinion is so great, and soon enough, Graham's behaviour - and James' - was no longer tolerated, and together they were sent to a strict and religious boarding school.

His mother often prayed to God when she sobbed and carried on, begging for some kind of salvation, some kind of help to assist them, even going so far as asking - why is this happening to me? And for that, she prayed alone. His father never begged anyone, certainly not to an ideal, certainly not on the gutters of their slum. She made Graham crouch with her, until he was bored and tired, knees aching from doing nothing, fingers clenching and unclenching as he struggled to stay still long enough to press his palms together.

The religious boarding school did not like children who did not behave. They also did not like children who could not control themselves. The cain and the whip came down on the tops of his hands and the backs of his knees with crippling force, bringing him to his knees but neither a whimper nor a whisper escaped him. He knew it was and still is a bad thing, not to register pain, someone's hurting him, trying to teach him a lesson. The Father looked suspicious as he crouched, unmoving, demanding he speak, say sorry to God for his indiscretion. Graham learned when to stay silent very, very quickly.

Graham wasn't concerned, he couldn't have cared less. He learned how to read, he could write well enough if he bothered enough to do so, and he is aware that two plus two equals four. He understood the ability to steal and burglarise people's homes is hardly a set of skills that would interest an employer, but he was proud of them nonetheless. He taught James' how to do the same, and together, they make more money than any of the boys' in their year level ever have.

They were expelled, and shunned, doused with cups of Holy Water and given the wrath of Satan as they were pushed out of the door and literally on their arses, left to their own devices. Graham scrunched his face up in the sunlight and looked up at the holy cross wistfully, amused. He was sixteen then, not yet an adult, but old enough he could lie, and pass for legal age. James grinned at him toothily, mischief already growing in his eyes.

Wandering around aimlessly with a newfound bout of freedom brought them no where in particular, with only each other's company, they got bored rather easily and decided to visit the only place they'd never been allowed: the ports.

Ports were - and still are today - monitored heavily throughout the night to avoid pirates docking in or beggars stealing from unattended ships as their owners visit town. During the day, however, its flurry with activity, villagers and water guards alike. Graham and James walked up and down the narrow pathways between each ship, not bothering to shy away from the curious looks they receive from the men around.

A ship, if it could be called a ship - it looked like a hunk of junk, held together with slipknots and cross-ties, was banked at the last docking station. Several water guards peered around it suspiciously, others already interrogating the Captain of his intentions. The Captain is a filthy looking thing, teeth rotten, fingers and eyes yellowed in deep, gaunt circles. Graham remembers being repulsed by the mere sight of him. 

James, the stupid fucker he was, approached the ship with interest once the guards decided the Captain was not there to loot the town and was purely gathering supplies. The Captain snarled at him, at them both, which almost sent Graham recoiling because his breath was so putrid his head span. James babbled on like a school girl on a date, simultaneously horrifying and annoying Graham to no end. The Captain regarded them for a long moment, then offered to show them how to be a pirate. 

Graham was hooked as soon as he heard the word. James, like Graham, came from a broken home with no one waiting in it. He didn't even need to leave the damn port because he had no one he wished to say goodbye to. For a moment, Graham thought about leaving and not telling his mother. He decided against it.

He returned home, wherever it was, because now, Graham can't honestly remember, he told his mother he was leaving, didn't bother to inform his father: he was already busy drinking whiskey he couldn't afford and enjoying the company of women he shouldn't. He took once last look around the town, then became a pirate.

It's not the fucking happy story he imagined, there's a lot of swearing, kidnapping, people locked in the stables and whatnot. He remembers fighting off shipmates, when their bellies were full of rum and their wandering hands, and him being a soft skinned teenager, some kind of piece of meat in their eyes. He learned to defend himself quick enough, stole from them for his own benefit and their disgust the following morning. 

\--

Things have changed, after so many years. 

He's older, now, much older, just hitting fifty years. The brush up with nostalgia brings a small smile to his face. Ah, being young, he wistfully thinks, peering over the edge of the ship and looking over the banks to the many beggars who stand around the ports.

He's never docked here, neither has James, who sidles up to him with a mug of mead and his pipe hanging between his teeth. Graham sends Dean and Aidan off the ship to gather supplies, eager for them to fuck off for five minutes and give him some time alone without hearing their constant jokes and laughter every damn moment. 

Martin is sent to chart the town, grouching and foul tempered as usual, and honestly, sometimes Graham wonders why he keeps some of these men on the ship, all they do his complain grumble or the very opposite: shout and laugh abnormally and boisterously loud, annoying him from both sides.

"We gonna take some with us?" James asks eagerly, draining the last of his ale and locking the bottom of the ramp in place.

The town is empty, too empty, Graham knows immediately the water guard has seen them approach and ordered a mass evacuation, ordering the people to hide in inside their homes until the town is declared safe once they've left. He smirks despite himself, wandering off and peering around the many streets. Odd, not even a flicker of litter lingers on the streets. They've docked in a rich man's town, for the first time in ages.

His men know it, as soon as they see the difference too. James laughs loudly, the echo impossibly loud, bouncing off the empty streets and reverberating through the town. The marketplace has been abandoned, Graham can see the deserted stalls from here, and sends Adam and Jed to assist Dean and Aidan carry whatever they've decided to bring back.

It takes them several hours to bring everything back from the market, becoming so time consuming Graham finds himself settling next to the random people still working at the docks, either uncaring of their presence or too poor to stop working. He watches them with so much interest, James and Ian settle down for a smoke, Dean and Aidan playing pranks on poor Martin, threatening to dunk him in the water and drown him.

They wouldn't dare, he knows, because Martin is the only one aside from Graham who seems to know his arse from his elbow.

Graham focuses on one of the men, the tallest one, who expertly unlatches the cages and sorts the fish into barrels and crates full of water and ice. His movements are quick, methodical, fingers grasping the filleting knife and slicing the bodies open and gutting them quicker than he can blink.

"Got some decent knifing skills, there," Graham comments, watching the man's hands.

He stills, shocked he's even being addressed, returning Graham's gaze with extreme hesitancy. Graham can see the man's shoulders tense, curling forward in an attempt to make himself look smaller.

"T-thank you," His voice is deep, full of gravel.

"Could use a man like you on my ship," he continues, dragging on his cigarette. He wonders what the man would look like once he's had a bath. Their gaze meets again, he can only imagine the thoughts running through the stranger's mind: if I decline, will he force me? Should I go willingly will I live a better life? Will someone hurt me? - Graham stays silent.

"Really," the man replies, moving around the cages and reorganising their weight in the water.

"What is your name?" Graham asks.

The man stares at him, "Richard."

"Come along," he orders, firmly, leaving no room for argument, but he's not stern enough to leave Richard worried he'll become violent. He notices James has selected two other men from the other side of the port, introduced to Graham as Adam and Luke, who have some skill in general ship cleaning and maintenance. James gestures to the fish, "Should we bring them, as food?"

Graham stands and gestures for the others to find anything valuable around the water and load up the ship.

\--

The newcomers are given beds crammed in little rooms the size of a match box. They don't complain, Graham knows the wouldn't even if they had the balls to. Luke seems relieved to have a place to rest his head, Richard's impossibly long legs need to be curled up for him to sleep comfortably, but is happy to have a warm blanket to wrap himself in.

Graham delegates them certain jobs they need to do, simple, though tedious and tiring and it can take hours. Adam and Luke are now ship hands who will clean the decks and wash the flags. Richard does the laundry and cleans the dining spaces. Graham can't help but snicker at them, it has been a long, long time since he's had to clean up after others, and scrubbing the deck on hands and knees or wringing out the laundry and settling it aside to dry is certainly not something he misses.

He watches them work, nitpicking at certain inconsistencies and whatnot, after all, he has a reputation as Captain to maintain. The newcomers stay in their group, only speaking to others when spoken to, eating last and careful not to complain when surrounded by others. He is not a cruel Captain, he's not going to make their lives a misery, after all, there is a constant threat of mutiny amongst other ships, a kind Captain is a valued one, and he enjoys the company of his men more than anything else.

James likes to be bossy, he enjoys the power being a second in charge offers but he does not abuse it, if anything he likes having newcomers on board because they do not grow tired of his pathetic jokes and teasing. Luke and Adam smile politely, unsure whether or not they are allowed to laugh or not, whereas Richard nods his head in acknowledgement. James doesn't care if they don't find him humorous, he never has, he enjoys hearing the sound of his own voice.


End file.
